Paperwork
by Chirugal
Summary: Set a few days after 'Straw Dog'. Having granted the team a few days off to recuperate, Boyd decides to catch up on his paperwork. However, he receives an unexpected visitor... BoydxStella, oneshot, complete.


**PAPERWORK** by Chirugal

**Rating:** T

**Author's Note**: Argh, you're all going to kill me… I've become a bit obsessed with the Boyd/Stella ship, and I just know that's going to piss off all the old-school Boyd/Frankie and Boyd/Grace shippers… Just give it a chance! It's mostly random introspection anyway.

* * *

For once, the Cold Case Unit was quiet. Everyone was still reeling from the result of the Tony Greene case two days earlier, and Boyd had ordered them all – Spence, Felix, Stella and especially Grace – to take a long weekend off. Unsurprisingly, no one had protested.

Boyd, however, had elected to get on top of his paperwork. There were masses of the stuff, some of it six months overdue. The silence rang in his ears, reminding him of the last time things had been so quiet – and the reason he was so behind with the administration. _Mel._ The single word evoked no end of pain and guilt. Boyd wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop blaming himself completely.

He turned the page, attempting to distract himself, but another shadow of the past leapt out at him. Frankie's handwritten note paper-clipped to a lab report reminded him of the other team member he had lost – he suspected through his neglect of the team's emotional needs after Mel's death. There was more than enough guilt attached to that notion, too.

With a growl, Boyd pushed the file away, almost knocking over his three-hour-old cup of coffee in the process, and massaged his temples as if it would help to banish the tension headache that was growing there. _Why aren't I at home?_

A soft knock at the open door startled him. He looked up to see Stella hovering uncertainly in the doorway. "You alright, sir?"

"Stella… what are you doing here?" He tried to keep the weariness out of his voice; knew he was failing.

She tried a tentative smile. "Just wondered if you needed my help. I don't have much to do today."

_Bless her._ He hadn't been sure about Stella at first – she had been an unwanted replacement for Mel, filling the empty void left by her absence. He was sure Grace had an analytical phrase or two to say about that.

She couldn't have come at a worse time – Boyd's integrity had been in question; he'd been doubting himself and unspeakably paranoid. The team had set their newest member onto an incidental case they'd been working on – only to have her barge into his office at a critical moment to toss a vital clue into the air.

It was then that the first seeds of respect had begun to take root in Boyd's mind. From there, he's alternated between consternation and admiration for his new colleague. Admiration, because she was wonderfully astute and knew how to get what she wanted. Consternation, for the very same reasons.

She was good, but impetuous. She appeared to have no handle on her rages, no qualms about using force on a suspect or uncooperative witness.

She reminded him so much of himself, it was almost frightening.

"Sir?" Stella was frowning, puzzled. He realised he hadn't answered her.

"Sorry." He glanced through the paperwork, searching for something – anything – he could delegate, but everything required his authorisation. "Nothing you can help with, I'm afraid."

For a second it looked as though she would protest, but then she nodded. "I'll get you some coffee, then."

* * *

Stella frowned at the coffee machine, her mind on Boyd. She'd had a specific objective in coming here today, something she meant to bring up with him. She'd chosen today so that there'd be no interruptions – no emergency arrests to make, no new leads uncovered… she wanted his full attention for once.

She took the coffee back into the office, depositing his on the desk before slipping into the chair opposite. Boyd raised an eyebrow at her forwardness. "What's up?"

"There's something I want to talk to you about."

She could almost see the thought 'oh, god…' flit across his mind. "Okay…?" His eyes bored into hers, scoping her out. Captivated by his gaze, Stella felt her well-thought-out argument evaporate.

She dropped her eyes to the desk, sipped her coffee. "I… um…" _Come on, Stella, get a grip._ Summoning her righteous anger, she looked back up. "I want to know why you keep me cooped up in here while everyone else gets to go out to the scenes."

His brows drew together. "I let you out to the scenes! You came with us to Healey's and to Hoyle's the other day."

Exasperated, Stella jumped up and began to pace the office. "But you were there, then. Whenever it's independent work, you make me sit and go through _bed lists_."

"I needed the information you were working on."

"Then why not put DI Jordan on it once in a while?" she exploded, her fiery nature provoked. "I'm going crazy in here!"

"I didn't ask you to come in today." His hackles rising, Boyd returned her glare.

"You're missing the point! Just because I'm new doesn't mean I'm incapable! I'm pretty good at my job, in case you hadn't noticed!"

Boyd's frayed temper snapped. "Stella, do you know what happened to our last DS? Hmm? Did you hear about how Mel died because I wasn't there to protect her?"

Dead silence descended. By the time Stella found her voice again, Boyd had begun to apologise – something that was a shock in itself. She'd never heard him directly apologise to anyone, for anything.

She cut him off. "No, sir – I'm sorry." She paused, sat back down. "But I'm capable enough to be out there on my own. I appreciate that you want to protect me, but…" She trailed off. She'd made her point. It was up to him what he chose to do with it.

* * *

Boyd sighed, sagging back in his chair. Now that he'd mentioned the 'M' word, he regretted it. Still, what was done, was done.

His current attitude towards Stella had begun when he'd seen her slap Taz in the interview room, when she'd lost her cool and begun to curse at him in emphatic French. Watching her then, he'd been inexplicably proud, though detective superintendents as a rule weren't supposed to condone police brutality. He supposed he wasn't one to preach – she was only following his example.

Taz had looked up at him after she'd stormed out. "She's sexy, eh?"

It had taken Boyd a while to get past his mortification at the fact that he agreed.

That night, he'd awakened from a vivid nightmare – the same that had haunted him for months. A familiar figure, falling from a great height to hit his car with a sickening thud. Only this time, it had not been Mel he'd been unable to save. It had been Stella.

The dream had stuck with him… and he supposed his actions since then had been as a result of it. Which seemed to have royally pissed her off.

Stella stared at him with an expression that was hard to place. Part mutinous, part sympathetic, part… what? Realising she was still waiting for him to speak, he abandoned his analysis.

"You're passionate about your work, and that's good," he began, wondering how to tactfully word what was in his mind, "but you get carried away."

She scowled. "Is this about the junkie I slapped? Because you've done worse! I mean, with all due respect," she added as an afterthought.

"First the junkie, then Healey's superintendent… you need to get a better handle on your temper." He was all too aware of how hypocritical it sounded coming from him.

Stella's aforementioned temper was rising again. "You can't take the moral high ground with me on this one, sir! I _saw_ the look on your face when I grabbed that guy!"

Inwardly, Boyd flinched. At that time, again, he'd been proud of her. _And perving at her like a dirty old man._ He dismissed the thought.

Sensing his discomfort, Stella seized her advantage. "Anyway, how is being carried away a bad thing? It's not like I'm going to kill anyone!"

"You'll end up taking stupid risks," Boyd stated wearily.

"Ha! _I_ take stupid risks? You nearly had a bullet through you the other day!" she yelled, eyes blazing.

"That's different." Feeling claustrophobic, Boyd got up and moved past her into the main office. She followed, determined to make him listen to her.

"How? Sir, you could have _died_!"

He stopped in his tracks and spun to face her. "Yeah, well, better me than one of my team!"

Growling with utter frustration, she hit out at him, completely disregarding his status as her superior. Boyd raised a disbelieving hand to his inflamed cheek, his anger subsiding just enough to make room for a less appropriate emotion: attraction. "Don't you _ever_ do that again," he told her, voice deceptively soft.

Her dark eyes flashing simultaneous fire and ice, Stella held her ground. "But, sir… you like it when I'm violent." Her voice held a challenge, but also a tinge of uncertainty. An educated guess.

The responsible thing would have been to break away: turn his back, storm into his office, slam the door. However, Boyd was never one to run from a challenge.

He kissed her. Or perhaps she kissed him. However it happened, she ended up crushed against his chest, their embrace born as much out of fury as of affection. Boyd was swept up in the intensity of the moment – some tiny spark of life permeated the numbness left by Mel's death, and its devastating aftermath. He had forgotten what it was like to truly feel.

Her tiny cry of pleasure brought him to his senses. _What am I doing? _Faster than he would have liked, or even than was polite, he drew away, took a step back.

An awkward pause followed as each tried to gather their thoughts. _What am I supposed to say, or do?_ "Stella…" he tried after a few moments, not entirely sure what he was about to say.

She looked up, vulnerable for a second before an almost-believable businesslike expression took over. "Didn't happen, wasn't even here today," she said promptly.

Taken by surprise, Boyd stared at her. "What makes you think that's what I was about to say?"

She snorted, an ironic smile surfacing. "Come on, sir. The team's falling to bits as it is." It wasn't rocket science. Spence would go through the roof. Grace would profile him to death – and never let him live it down – and Felix… well, he wasn't sure about Felix.

Stella shook her head as if to dislodge an unwanted thought. "At least think about what I said." Before he could reply, she was heading for the door.

As she reached it, Boyd said the only thing that came to mind. "Stop calling me 'sir'. You're making me feel like an old lech."

He caught a fleeting glimpse of her grin, and then she was gone.

* * *

**It's my first Waking The Dead fic, so please let me know what you think!**


End file.
